At the End of the Rainbow
by One Ripple
Summary: [ shounen ai ] There are things worth so much more than money, but do those who need to know this know?


I cannot believe you're going to let it go. Just like that.  
  
He sat at the edge of the bed, voice rueful but eyes fierce, each word accompanied by a burst of violet and a flare of crimson beyond blue.  
  
It's not your decision, Duo; it's mine. There are some things you don't understand, and I don't expect you to realize the reasoning behind my thoughts because of that.  
  
Slender fingers danced across the keyboard, and neon glowed beneath their touch to trace bronzed skin in green, the green of clearer water beneath sheens of ice and the green of the sky when the sun died away. Or when the sun shone down on death, and the humans dying away.  
  
I know it's not my decision, and I know there're things I don't understand. If you'd just tell me, though, I might be able to –  
  
Duo.  
  
A streak of cobalt brightened, and abruptly nostalgia stroke. There were so many things blue that could be remembered, the clouds when twilight fell and the river when rain pooled to break, the darkness in his lover's gaze when he did something extraordinarily stupid. Or intelligent.  
  
I know, I know. There're some secrets you'd rather I not know, just like I have some that I'd rather you not know, so we should just leave each other alone and that'll be that.  
  
In a flash of goldenrod hues, the sun caught upon strands of umber and faded black, and for a moment yellow colored the window. It was, some dim memory said, that same shade seen once before on a lake far away but not so long ago, when moonlight was silver and starlight was gold. There had been a reflection against the lake, and it was a ripple of dreams.  
  
Hn.  
  
...But sometimes, I just know I can help. If only you'd let me, Heero, I just know I'd be able to help out. I'm not completely useless, you know. There are times when I'm actually rather helpful; even Wufei'll say so.  
  
Scarlet ruffled as the wiry body turned, and a peek of a red shirt fell forth from above an obsidian collar. Faded by afternoon's shadows and yet bright in its sepia, it was reminiscent of life against a velvet ground; there had been snow, that winter years past, and rivulets tainted the sweet innocence.  
  
Damnit, don't ignore me! I'm being serious, and you're...what're you doing?  
  
Navy met amethyst in a clash, and two shades melted into a vortex of indigo. Dusky dawns rose when the universe could be seen in mind's eye.  
  
Hey! That's my shirt you're stuffing in there! As flattering as it is that you're carrying my shirt around in your suitcase, I'd much rather have that sitting in my drawer, thank you.  
  
Folds upon folds of burgundy fell into the container, fluorescent light catching and shimmering orange. The worn leather had been seen before and had, in its turn, seen many lifetimes, and it now told stories of pavement beneath streetlamps, pears mottling the emerald of trees.  
  
You're coming with me.  
  
Coming...where?  
  
To the other side of the world. There's something there I want to see you.  
  
Does this have to do with our conversation?  
  
Yes.  
  
So...other side of the world, eh?  
  
A story, once. A short man buried a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and only those who would not deceive, or allow themselves to be deceived, could find the treasure; the faithful, the loyal, and the true were alone allowed access to riches beyond thought.  
  
Yes.  
  
Someone who loved, or had once loved and been loved, said, too, that the rainbow led sometimes not to gold but to something much rarer and worth much more. Someone who had followed the bridge said it led away from pain. To love.  
  
Talk about perfect timing for a trip, Heero! The rain's stopped.  
  
...  
  
No, really. Come look. There's a rainbow out there!  
  
Hn.  
  
Hey. ...Do you really want me to come with you?  
  
A pause, hopeful.  
  
...Yes.  
  
. . .  
  
Oh when the veil of dreams has lifted,  
  
And the fairy tales have all been told,  
  
There's a kiss at the end of the rainbow;  
  
More precious than a pot of gold.  
  
. . .  
  
AN: This has got to be the most abstract, vague work I've ever written. To me it makes sense, but...blegh. I can only hope all of you can understand it, too. 


End file.
